Crimson Absolution
by Brette O'Connell
Summary: Jane has an epiphany while under the influence of belladonna. I was asked by several friends to repost this story as well as "Mr. and Mrs. Smith." This story is a bit OOC, but isn't that what fanfiction is all about? I do not own these characters. All rights are reserved by CBS and the creative genius Bruno Heller.


It had been a full week since Jane had used the belladonna, that toxic herbaceous perennial, which permitted him to see and talk to his beloved Angela and his darling Charlotte. But this last time wasn't at all what Jane expected. Instead of his vision being more substantive and intense, it had been tenuous and ethereal, a mere reflection of his other drug-induced dreams.

Determined that tonight would be different, Jane brewed a new, stronger pot of the poison-laced tea. Hesitantly, he brought the witch's brew to his sensuous lips then paused, momentarily reviewing the past decade of his life. He looked around the dusty attic and sighed in resignation. Smiling, he raised the cup in a silent toast and took a sip of tea. Tonight, he would see his wife and daughter one last time.

As Angela and Charlotte pulled Jane deeper into the comforting depths of death, a greater force beckoned him into the light and into the communion of life and love. Her life. Her love. The raven-haired beauty had always fought to save him from his lies and schemes and from his grief and pain. Now she was saving him from himself. Somewhere in his poisoned mind and soul, Jane knew that there was another choice. He was alive. She was alive. And no matter how much he wished his wife and daughter were alive as well, he knew they were gone forever. And in this dark epiphany, he somehow knew that his own time had not yet come to an end. There were still many years ahead of him. He could have a life, a life with her. No matter the consequences, no matter the sacrifice, he could be with Teresa, his little flower named for a saint.

The guilt of what he'd done enveloped Jane like a shroud. He was unworthy of salvation, of another chance, of Teresa, and of her love. But he wanted her more than he wanted to see Angela and Charlotte again.

A day later Jane found himself at Lisbon's office door, long past the time they both should have been gone. Tentatively, he knocked on the door like a schoolboy at the principal's office. "May I come in?" he asked in a small voice.

Lisbon raised her eyes from the case file she was working on and gazed through dark, thick lashes at Jane, her emerald green eyes quiet and unrevealing.

"What is it, Jane? I have a lot of work to do," she replied flatly.

"If this is a bad time then I'll come back."

"Is there ever a good time?"

Jane's brow furrowed as he pursed his lips together. He nearly frowned, but then he caught himself and remained as stoic as she. "I suppose not," was all he could say.

He turned and was halfway out the door when Lisbon's words abruptly stopped him. "I'm really not mad at you, Jane. I understand, but that doesn't mean I'm happy about what you did either. You could have killed yourself, and that's truly unforgivable."

The little flower believed suicide was a mortal sin. He grinned slightly, thinking what a paradox she was to be such a tough cop, yet still believe in such childish superstitions as God and saints and sin. Forgiveness was something else entirely. It was a human quality well within a man's scope, and he wanted Lisbon's forgiveness.

"Then will you forgive me, my dear, for my weakness, for my faults and for everything I've done to hurt you?"

Lisbon was stunned by Jane's confession. Tears welled up in her eyes and threatened to spill down her creamy white cheeks as a flood of conflicting emotions quarreled within her. Forgive him? After all he'd put her through? What nerve! For ten years she had stood unconditionally by his side, making excuses for him, believing in him and in his lies, and praying that he'd change. Yet Jane continued to use her, his lies and schemes as intricate as ever, his vengeance never ending. And he had hurt her beyond imagining, abandoning her without a word then conveniently forgetting his declaration of love when she most needed confirmation.

"It's not that easy."

"I realize that I'm asking a great deal. I don't deserve your forgiveness or your love, Teresa, but I'm asking for both."

That one word, her own name, said in such genuine supplication shattered the chains she'd wrapped around her heart, chains that grew heavier each year with the weight of Jane's lies, his broken promises, and with each thoughtless kiss he pressed against her cheek. Yet Lisbon could never deny him anything he asked. "I...I…forgive you, Jane."

"No. Not like that."

What more did the man want? He had gotten what he'd asked for and was now demanding more! It was just like him to be unsatisfied even after being given everything. "Then how?" she heard herself curtly asking.

"Say, _I forgive you, Patrick_. My name is Patrick."

The last defiant, protective chain fell from around her heart. Lisbon rose from her chair and slowly walked to where Jane stood, his cool blue-green eyes filled with sorrow and anticipation. Then he closed the distance between them until he was mere inches from her and waited for absolution.

She reached out and gently touched his cheek with her fingertips. The boyish face Lisbon had once known was now lined with age and disappointment. The hunt for Red John had taken a toll on Jane's body and his soul.

Jane took Lisbon's hand from his cheek and kissed her palm, tenderly resting his lips in the softness. A line from a poem he'd read long ago resounded in his brain. _No one, not even the rain, has such small hands._ As his heart fiercely pounded with hope, he slowly looked up into her eyes, and in them saw the forgiveness he so desperately sought. Absolved, he withdrew his hand from hers.

A sad and puzzled look fleeted across Lisbon's beautiful face as she watched Jane do something she never could have imagined. He twisted the thin, plain wedding band on his finger round and round, contemplating all that it represented. Then suddenly he stopped and pulled it from its resting place of many years. As the ring came off, a small gasp escaped Lisbon's lips as once again this unpredictable man surprised her beyond measure.

"Thank you, Teresa," he said, placing the ring into her hand.

Her fingers curled around the golden band that Angela had given Jane on their wedding day. She was at a loss as what to do with it. Then a gentle smile found its way to her lips, and Lisbon knew what she needed to do, what she had to do to bring his past into their present. This ring was a part of Jane's very existence, the symbol of the life he cherished above all, the life he now willingly relinquished to her.

With trembling fingers Lisbon removed the cross that she always wore and slipped the wedding band onto its chain. She'd wear this ring close to her heart, knowing now that Jane would always be there too.

Lisbon handed Jane the necklace and bowed her head so he could return it to its rightful place. He obliged and after doing so, he kissed the ring then pressed his lips against hers and kissed her sweetly. "I love you, Teresa," Jane said, as he pulled his lips from hers.

"I love you, Patrick. I have for so long."

"I know," he replied and kissed her once again.


End file.
